Marcus' P.O.V

November, 9th

10:45 a.m.

"I thought you said Fudge was going to have the trial the first of November."

Marcus sighed. That was the third time the ever-disheveled Sirius Black had said that to him. And the man only got more and more insufferable as he repeated himself.

"And I told you, Fudge may drag his feet a bit to make sure I'm not playing him from any other angles. The man is a bureaucrat, he won't trust anyone. Least of all a foreign government official who may be trying to ingratiate himself to one of his political enemies in exchange for a permanent spot in Wizarding Britain's government."

Sirius Black stalled for a moment, picked his nose, looked around, wiped it on the bench they were sitting on, and then leaned forward," Are you trying to ingratiate yourself to one of his political enemies in exchange for a spot in Wizarding Britain's government?"

"No."

The bustle of the Ministry of Magic wasn't new to Marcus, but the looks of utter terror pointed his way, were. They weren't exactly looking at him, but the man next to him.

Marcus snorted.

If Sirius Black was a Death Eater then Marcus was the Queen of England. The man had no finesse, the coordination of a drunk bull in a china shop, and had a mouth so foul Marcus wouldn't be surprised if he were the son of a sailor. He certainly wasn't the type Voldemort would have had in his inner circle, let alone as his right-hand man.

The British Aurors during Voldemort's reign of terror had to be the single most incompetent bunch of idiots that Marcus had ever had the displeasure of reading about as he went through files on Sirius Black from back in the day. And it wasn't just his files that were a mess, but nearly every file from back then was next to useless. The only ones that weren't were for the Death Eaters who had been caught red-handed.

Marcus flipped back to the file he had copied and skimmed the names again. They were all fairly well known: Bellatrix Lestrange, Rudolphus and his brother Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Igor Karkaroff, and… Bartemius Crouch Jr.?

Why did that name sound familiar?

Marcus flipped to the front of the file to see the list of officiates who had signed the document. There was the official signature of the then Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, the signatures of a dozen Wizengamot officials including the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore, and there at the end was the signature of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Sr.

'Either the man was performing his duty and playing no favorites to uphold his morals, or it was so he didn't look like a Death Eater sympathizer and ruin his career. Knowing the political climate of Britain I would say the latter is more likely.'

"I thought you said—"

Marcus slammed the case file shut," So 'elp me god if you say zat one more time, I will glue your lips shut with a sticking charm!"

Sirius Black held his hands up," Whoa! No need to break out the French accent mate."

Marcus' eye twitched, and he carefully fixed the collar of his shirt," Just— keep your mouth shut until you're asked to answer questions."

"Mmk, m gb ut!" The man had tried speaking through shut lips, and all that came out were unintelligible grunts that Marcus couldn't discern.

(Sirius speak translates to "Okay, I got it!")

Marcus sighed heavily, turned his head up to the ceiling in disbelief, and pinched the bridge of his nose," dear god. Why did Dumbledore make me do this?"

"Black!" An Auror, one that Marcus hadn't seen around before, motioned for the both of them to enter the courtroom.

"Finally!" Sirius Black jumped to his feet and, skeletal as he was, looked oddly high in spirits. His jubilant nature was ghoulishly offset by the rattling of chains that bound his arms and legs. The prison robes he wore were stained, hung loosely on his thin frame, and were so ragged he might as well be a mistreated house elf.

And yet he skipped forward as if he were frolicking in a field of daisies.

Marcus, for his part, rose to his feet slowly, his neatly pressed suit and dress robes making a comical contrast to the man he ushered forward," Why in God's name are you so upbeat?"

Sirius Black laughed," These arseholes are giving me Veritaserum, right?"

"Yes, it is standard procedure for situations such as this."

Black laughed all the harder," Then I've got nothing to worry about, but oh how I'm looking forward to Fudge's look of disbelief when I get started."

As they reached the door to the courtroom, Marcus took Sirius by the elbow and led him inside," Don't speak until prompted, don't make sudden movements toward any of the assembled Wizengamot members, and especially don't try and fight the Veritaserum. People who do fight it usually end up telling the truth for the rest of their lives, and that can get quite awkward very quickly."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard this all before. I was an auror before, or did your fancy file on me not tell you that?" He grinned at Marcus, years of not having access to a toothbrush or scouring charms had done the man's teeth no favors.

"It did. Now get in there, stand in the middle of the room, shut up until they ask questions, and try not to make an idiot of yourself."

Marcus went to walk away and just as he was about to take his seat he heard Black call after him," What? No kiss goodbye?!"

'I hate that man.' Marcus sat down, his face was beat red as members of the Wizengamot stared owlishly at him.

Aurors entered, six in total, and arrayed themselves strategically around the room. Two pairs stood at both entry doors on the opposite ends of the room, and two more stood shoulder to shoulder with Sirius.

While Marcus didn't recognize five out of the six of them he did recognize one of the men standing beside Sirius. Who wouldn't recognize him? It was Alastor Moody, one of the most well-known Aurors who was on active duty during the First Wizarding War.

He had been one of the Aurors to apprehend Sirius Black, and one of the few to be involved in the capture of Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband Rudolphus, his brother Rabastan, and of course Bartemius Crouch Jr.

'I suppose he has some skin in this trial.'

Dumbledore took his seat as the Chief Warlock, and for the briefest moment, Marcus was sure a look passed between him and Moody.

'Or perhaps he has a different sort of reason for being here.'

It wasn't exactly a secret that Moody had operated with Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix during the war, but it seemed his affiliation was more than a passing coincidence.

"Have all of the necessary officials gathered?" Fudge looked to the toadish undersecretary, and when she nodded he turned to the assembled Wizengamot," very well. We are all gathered here to square away some rather nasty business regarding the alleged Death Eater, Sirius Black."

As the ridiculous minister spoke, Marcus caught sight of a woman at the side of the room. Her blonde hair was set in elaborate curls that contrasted sharply with her heavy jaw, and over her head, a quill twirled about; scribbling down something on a notepad.

'Rita Skeeter I presume.' Marcus observed the woman for a moment, but when she seemed to be paying no true attention to the currently known facts about the case, he quickly dismissed her. No true journalist would overlook such important information, and that was especially true with such a high-profile person as Black.

Marcus turned back to Fudge as he seemed to be wrapping up his rather uninterested recitation of the facts,"—and thus the accused was apprehended at the gruesome site of the crime scene. Does the accused have any remarks or additional statements to give?"

Sirius seemed to think on that for a second. He drew a very exaggerated hand up and into his beard where he stroked it thoughtfully," I believe I do."

Marcus wasn't very confident that the man wouldn't say something ridiculous, and the very exaggerated posh British accent he'd spoken with didn't help.

"You, sir," he pointed at Fudge, the manacles on his wrists clanking," are a right twat"

The room burst into outraged cries of anger.

"What sort of feral beast—"

"The utter vulgarity!"

"This is the treatment we get when giving the benefit of the doubt?!"

Fudge banged on the plinth in front of him," people! Please calm down!"

The room didn't grow any quieter and in fact, it seemed to be getting even louder.

Marcus shook his head,' only Sirius Black could get this kind of rise out of a room.'

A large bang sounded, and all eyes turned to the source.

The man was of average height, but that was certainly the only thing average about him. His long blond hair was carefully curated to impart anyone looking with the thought that he must spend a lot of time getting it just right, his cold stare passed around the room quelling everyone they passed over, and his haughty nature reminded Marcus a bit of the persona Fleur put on when around strangers. Although, this man was almost definitely as full of himself as his demeanor would suggest; unlike Fleur.

"Thank you, Lucius," Fudge dabbed his brow with an embroidered handkerchief.

'Ah, so that is Lucius Malfoy. He certainly cuts an… imposing figure.'

"Of course, Minister," his words were anything but respectful. He spoke the word minister as if it were a meaningless title," but I believe Mr. Black has rather proven a point. Not only does he have no gratitude for the trial we are holding for his benefit, but he also blatantly spits in the face of the figure who has so graciously bestowed him with the only hope of redemption he has."

The room broke out into more quiet murmurs of condemnation for Black, but the voices were silenced when a hoarse-bitter laugh broke through.

All eyes turned to Sirius now.

"If you think I'm going to be grateful for being thrown away to rot in Azkaban for eleven years; then you're sorely mistaken."

"How dare you! Be glad you're even being given a chance to prove your innocence!" A member of the Wizengamot, Augusta Longbottom, shouted from her seat.

"Oh, excuse me, madam," Sirius stood from his chair and gave a mock bow," however could such a lowly insect as myself ever begin to repay this kindness? But, pray tell, why was I not given this kindness when I was apprehended? Even those bastard Lestranges were given trials, or was that just because Crouch's son was with them? Of course, I don't see why you would've been fine with them getting even that much since they were the ones to torture your son and his wife, Madam Longbottom."

The old woman snarled, but before she was allowed to say anything Fudge spoke up.

"The trials of others have no importance in this trial. We are here to ascertain your guilt or innocence, Black. Now we will extend the same courtesy we do all of those facing Azkaban in trial have, do you consent to the use of Veritaserum?"

Black's eyes lingered on Madam Longbottom for another second, but he turned to Fudge," Yes, I do."

"Very well," Fudge motioned for the potion to be brought in," you will be administered Veritaserum whereupon the truth shall be revealed."

Severus Snape, the potions master of Hogwarts entered the room. In his hand was a small vial of clear liquid.

"The potion has been brewed, supplied, and delivered by one, Severus Snape, whose potion-making credentials cannot be disputed and has in fact been endorsed by none other than Albus Dumbledore," the minister motioned for Severus to approach Black.

Snape seemed to whisper something very scathing to Black, but he too received what must have been a rather rude comment from the bound man; if his look of anger was anything to go by anyway. Snape gripped Sirius Black's jaw and then poured the potion into his mouth.

The assembled witches and wizards fidgeted in anticipation. No doubt they were very curious to see the outcome, but many seemed uninterested; as if they were already certain of Black's guilt.

"Now," Fudge leaned forward and stared down at Sirius Black," were you or were you not responsible for the facilitation of information that led to the deaths of Lilly and James Potter?"

"Sirius seemed to sway on the spot, a blissfully wistful smile on his face," I was not."

The room roared, chairs were scrapped back as their occupants stood to shout, and people banged their feet.

"Silence!" Dumbledore called over the cacophony bringing silence to the room.

Fudge cleared his throat," Ah, thank you, Dumbledore. Now," he turned back to Sirius Black," were you the one who, in cold blood, killed Peter Pettigrew, and twelve muggles in a London street, on November first?"

"I did not."

"Are you or were you a member of the dark lord's followers, otherwise known as, Death Eaters?"

"I was not and I still am not."

This time the shouts did not subside for a very long time.

Harry's P.O.V

November, 10th

8:00 a.m.

Fleur was still very upset with him. The next morning there was no visible improvement in her mood, and in fact, she had gone to greater lengths to ignore him.

When he'd gotten up even earlier than normal to intercept her heading to breakfast. He had waited an hour past the start and seen neither hide nor hair of her. Then he had gone down to the Great Hall and seen she wasn't there either, so that could only mean she'd never even come down from her room.

Once she finally did come down she'd taken a seat further up the Ravenclaw table and was angrily scraping a mixture of butter and jam across a piece of toast. Her hair was smooth and straight as if she'd brushed it much longer than she usually did. Her eyes never strayed from the task in front of her, and she took angrily delicate bites from her breakfast.

Harry had no idea someone could look so elegant yet so mad while eating. He almost smiled.

He was just working up the courage to approach her when a shout next to him drew his attention. A group of students were crowding around a newspaper, but Harry couldn't parse out any of the details through all of the yelling.

When he pulled his eyes away and was readying himself to approach Fleur yet again, a shadow was cast from over his shoulder.

"Harry," looking back he caught sight of Dumbledore's substantial beard and crooked nose," I have a bit of an important matter to discuss with you."

Harry swallowed. Was this about his meltdown a few days ago? Had Dumbledore finally decided that Harry was more trouble than he was worth?

"S-Something important, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's beard moved in a way that made Harry think he was smiling," Nothing bad, Harry. You have been given your punishment for your earlier actions and will be assisting Professor Lockhart on Saturdays for a month. This will have a considerable impact on you especially, and I think I would be quite remiss if I did not inform you of the matter."

"Oh, okay." Harry gave a sigh of relief, gathered his things, and followed after the headmaster. He spared one last glance at Fleur before he continued after Dumbledore.

The way to the headmaster's office was long and ominously silent. Usually, Harry would be inundated with offers of lemon drops and whimsical ponderings that he couldn't understand, but this atmosphere was entirely different.

"Um, Professor?"

Dumbledore glanced back at Harry, his stride never breaking as he walked up a spiraling flight of stairs," yes, Harry?"

"What exactly is this about?"

"This is regarding your current living arrangements, and your lack of a guardian; aside from myself that is."

Harry nearly tripped at that. What was going on? Was he going to be sent to some kind of orphanage over the summer for witches and wizards? Or was he going to have to pay rent of some kind in exchange for living at Hogwarts? Maybe he would have to find somewhere else to stay.

'Staying at the Leaky Cauldron last year before school wasn't bad. I wonder if Tom will let me rent a room indefinitely if I help him with breakfast like I did before?'

And then a bone-chilling thought entered his mind. His vision seemed to shrink and expand all at once, his fingertips grew numb, and his stomach lurched,' what if the Dursleys raised a fuss and I have to go back to them?'

Just as soon as the thought entered his head it was thrown out,' No, Uncle Vernon is probably happy to be rid of me, and Dudley too. The only one who is probably upset about it is…. Her.'

Harry shuddered, noticed he'd come to a full stop in the middle of a hallway, and saw that Dumbledore had taken notice.

He smiled apologetically and jogged to catch up to the headmaster," Sorry, sir. Just got lost in thought."

Dumbledore smiled," Ah, when I am lost in thought I find it rather helps to stop and take a moment to organize my mind so that I might 'find my way' as it were. It is rather easy to lose ourselves in musings but remember, Harry, it is never wise to dwell on what ifs."

"I'll try to remember that, sir." The gargoyles guarding the headmaster's office were as stoic as ever and they leaped aside when Dumbledore named some obscure muggle candy," Sir, is there any particular reason you always use sweets as your passwords?"

Dumbledore's boots thudded softly against the flagstone as he entered the office, and he smiled conspiratorially at Harry," because I like them."

Harry tried not to let the mysterious air around the headmaster dissipate further, but that was rather hard when the man was like an old child sometimes.

The office was the same as ever. The shelves were covered in Knickknacks, devices that spun and whirred, and his desk was flooded with papers. But standing in front of the desk was a man Harry knew quite well, and another he didn't.

The other man was hauntingly thin, he reminded Harry of himself when he'd still been with the Dursleys. His eyes were sunken, his graying hair seemed to have been recently cut, his beard was short and neatly trimmed, and he wore rather out-of-place dress robes that seemed to swallow him.

He inclined his head respectfully," Monsieur Delacour, Mr—"

The man stared, haunted, and fearful at Harry, but the look seemed to pass and he stepped forward; his hand outstretched," S-Sirius Black. I am— was a friend of your father's."

All of Harry's nerves stood on end, his body broke out into goosebumps, and he started to sweat profusely," n-nice t-to m-meet you."

Dumbledore and Monsieur Delacour looked between them both as Harry and Sirius both looked anywhere except at one another. Harry for his part because he'd had such a strong reaction at his father, and Mr. Black for some reason that Harry himself couldn't parse out.

A long awkward silence filled the room seeming to make Mr. Black fidget nervously," you… look a lot like your father."

Harry stiffened at that.

Both Dumbledore and Marcus cringed.

"Well," Harry glared at Mr. Black," I can proudly say that is the only thing I have in common with him."

Harry took a seat in a guest chair and promptly ignored the man otherwise.

Dumbledore gave a strained smile and cleared his throat," Yes, well now that everyone is acquainted I believe we should begin."

Harry frowned at Dumbledore," begin what?"

Marcus stepped forward, nearly placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, and then thought better of it," Mr. Black has been in Azkaban for quite some time now, and I played a minor role in having him released."

Harry looked confusedly between Dumbledore and Marcus," That's… very nice of you, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Nobody told you," Sirius Black whispered, his voice hollow and shaky, but then he laughed brokenly," Well I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Why would they tell you? I was found responsible for your parent's deaths twelve years ago."

Harry's world lurched and for a moment the idea that he could have grown up with parents like any other kid flitted across his mind. He wouldn't hate being compared to his father, he would have grown up not knowing the warmth of a mother, and he never would have needed to even set foot in Privet Drive.

Harry had thought for a very long time that he had thrown away thoughts of his past, but…

"What did you just say?" The air in the room shifted, hoarfrost crept from under Harry's feet, and the flagstone beneath him began to crack.

Dumbledore's hand fell on his shoulder," now Harry, I believe it is worth remembering that Monsieur Delacour played a large role in exonerating Sirius of the charges that had been brought against him."

Harry stared hatefully at the hand on his shoulder, another trail of frost spread along the appendage," then who was responsible?"

'Why am I so angry? Why do I even care? Is it the Horcrux affecting my emotions?' Harry searched inward, but found the fragment dormant just like it had been since his outburst nearly a week ago,' maybe I'm still just a child after all.'

Dumbledore and Marcus looked to Sirius Black.

For his part the men seemed to shrink under Harry's gaze," You've got your mom's glare."

That didn't bother Harry very much. His eyes were one thing that woman hated, so he'd come to rather like them.

Mr. Black relaxed as Harry's glare softened and he cleared his throat," The man's name is Peter Pettigrew. He was a friend of your parents too, but like me, he was friends with your father first." He stared wistfully out of a window, the Scottish countryside was lightly bathed in rising morning light," it was your dad, me, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. We were inseparable back in the day, but I suppose that meant little to the rat when the dark lord came knocking."

Harry hated to admit it but he was inclined to believe Mr. Black. He'd been face to deformed face with Voldemort last year and Harry had no wish to be that close to the man ever again.

Harry shuddered,' If you can even call that thing a man.'

"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Black," Harry inclined his head thankfully.

The gaunt man winced at that," Ah, you can just call me Sirius if you like, Harry. After all, we'll hopefully be seeing a lot of each other over the summer."

Harry frowned and looked at Dumbledore confusedly.

The wizened old man coughed," Yes, well you see that was the other matter we wished to discuss with you. You see, your parents named Sirius as your godfather when you were born, and he has expressed a wish to have you live with him at his family's residence in London."

Harry blinked, looked at Dumbledore, then to Sirius Black, then to Dumbledore, and back to Sirius Black," What!?"